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“Am I just supposed to look the other way?” I asked. My hand slid across my belly. “I don’t know what he does for the club. I don’t know how he makes his money. I don’t really know anything, do I?”
I felt like an idiot. He’d thrown me a bone by telling me his name, and he’d given me another when he’d shared a little bit of how he’d grown up. But we never actually talked about him or his past, or even the club.
I’d backed off when he said he wasn’t ready to tell me about his tattoos, but enough already. I’d been too busy falling for a guy who hadn’t walked out on me when he could’ve. Falling for a guy who had crackers and orange juice waiting for me after my morning sickness. Falling for a guy who wrung pleasure from my body like it was his full-time job, and who held me afterward like he actually cared about me.
“This is why I should never have slept with him,” I said.
“The first time, or the second time that led to multiple times?” she asked.
“The second time. I tried to have boundaries. That didn’t work out so well. My boundaries are basically lines drawn in chalk for all the good they did me.”
“So, what’s eating you the worst? The fact that he slipped a Black AMEX in your purse without telling you? Your new personal security guard? Or the dating-a-criminal thing?”
“We don’t know for sure he’s a criminal,” I muttered.
“Brooklyn…”
“Yeah, okay. I just didn’t want to assume and accuse. I need to be braver. I need to have a serious conversation with him. And I need to do it while trying to keep my pants on.”
“Good luck with that,” she drawled. “I see the way he looks at you. If Slash were a superhero, his power would be to instantaneously incinerate panties. Then again, maybe he’s not a superhero. Maybe he’s a super villain.”
“You’re lovely,” I said acerbically. “Did you know that?”
“Love you, too.”
* * *
My phone rang just as I carried the Bennington’s engagement cake into the chilly walk-in refrigerator.
“It’s Slash,” Jazz called.
I set the cake on a shelf, made sure it was secure, and then headed back into the kitchen.
She held out my phone to me and then without a word, left the room.
I looked at the screen and saw his name. I bit my lip in indecision. I wanted to talk to him, but I didn’t want to get into heavy stuff over the phone. And knowing myself, I wouldn’t be able to hold my tongue.
Anger surged through me when I realized Slash hadn’t even told me how long he was going to be gone and when he was coming…home.
And then I got mad at myself for not even remembering to ask him.
Dick coma, indeed.
I silenced the call.
A moment later, my phone started ringing again. I silenced it a second time and let it roll to voicemail.
The back door of the bakery opened, and Duke walked in, his phone to his ear. “Yeah, brother. She’s right here. Hold on.”
He held out the cell to me. “Slash.”
I looked at his phone and glared.
“Might as well take the call, Brooklyn. He won’t stop bugging you until you do.” Duke winked and handed me his phone.
I put the cell to my ear. “Hello.”
“Woman.”
